


Tradition

by Ghost0fWinter



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce is a good dad, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, robin!jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 10:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost0fWinter/pseuds/Ghost0fWinter
Summary: There's a tradition among the Robins: Who can scare Batman first?





	Tradition

If there was something every Robin knew was that it was impossible to sneak up on Batman. 

The tradition had begun with Dick, though at the time it was less of a tradition and more of an attempt of getting some kind of reaction out of Bruce. It had been a fun challenge and while he had never really managed to scare Bruce, he had made the man laugh more than once so he chucked it off as a victory nonetheless. 

When Jason first became Robin he had no idea about the nameless tradition. It was mostly due to the fact that Bruce and Dick weren’t on speaking terms, and when he  _ did  _ meet Dick it really wasn’t off to a good start. There had been a lot of trash talk on his part, mostly because he wanted to prove that he wasn’t  _ just  _ a replacement; that he could take the mantle of Robin and make it his own. 

So, the first time he tried to scare Bruce had been before he knew about the tradition. It had been the first time Bruce had ever let him put on the Robin costume and go out on patrol with him. He remembered the night like it had just happened; he remembered how the Cave had smelled of chocolate and coffee from the drinks Alfred had brought down. He remembered the hint of irritation in Bruce’s voice, which made it all the better.

“Okay, let’s go!” Bruce was shouting from his spot in front of the monitors of the Batcomputer. “If you can’t suit up quickly at home base, I’m concerned how you’ll handle it in the field.” 

“Perhaps he’s primping.” Alfred said as he stopped in front of Bruce, holding out the tray of drinks he had brought down for them. “As I recall, Master Dick spent nearly half an hour admiring his reflection the first time he donned his cape.”

Bruce took his cup, blue eyes scanning the Cave again for the fifth time in one minute. “Jason!” He called. “Get out here or I’m going out on patrol without you!” 

He figured this had to be the perfect timing. Bruce didn’t suspect a thing, plus he was holding a mug of coffee in his hands. What better than to scare Batman  _ and  _ cause him to drop his drink? Jason was grabbing hold of the edges of the computer, jumping up and vaulting over the monitors to land in a neat crouch between Bruce and Alfred. “Hah!” He shouted, both in amazement that he landed so perfectly and in hopes that it would up the Scare Factor. 

“My word!” Alfred took a step back, dropping the tray and mug of hot chocolate on the floor. 

“Gotcha!” Jason cheered, jumping down from the counter to look between Alfred and Bruce.

“Would have if I hadn’t seen you slip behind the computer banks three minutes ago.” Bruce countered, a smirk on his lips that he easily hid behind the rim of his coffee mug. 

Bruce’s nonchalance over the attempted scare didn’t put Jason off though, and instead the boy grinned a little wider. “No, I got you.” This time Bruce didn’t hide his smile, and it made Jason laugh in return. 

That had been the best night of his life, and even if he hadn’t managed to scare Bruce it was the start of it. He had told Dick about it once they had finally gotten past the initial stage of discomfort and awkward stares. That’s when Dick had told him all about how he used to try and scare Bruce when he was Robin.

That was how the tradition was born. 

Dick and Jason had begun a friendly competition between the two of them to see which one of them could scare Bruce first. Whenever Dick came back to Gotham the competition would get even worse. Whenever the two of them were together they would put aside their differences and have a joint attack strategy in place. It never really worked out; Bruce always somehow caught them before they could strike, or when they did he would simply look up from behind the rim of his glasses with a raised brow. 

Then Jason died. 

He didn’t think about it for years. He had been so preoccupied with vengeance and hatred that everything else--all the little things that had made being Robin so magical--had been all but forgotten. He didn’t think about it again until almost a year after his return to Gotham. He had been in the Cave, half listening to whatever Bruce was talking about, half staring off into space because he didn’t  _ care _ enough about whatever grievances Bruce was dealing with that week.  

Then, out of seemingly nowhere, Tim was dropping down from the platforms above, hanging upside down with the red tips of his cape brushing the ground and a scream of Bruce’s name echoing off the walls of the Cave. Bruce didn’t react (and Jason wasn’t about to admit how his fingers had brushed the tip of his gun, ready to pull it out and shoot Tim in the face) and instead he turned his head to glance at Tim with a raised brow.

“What is it, Tim?” Bruce had asked, and the disappointment etched across Tim’s face had been worth almost shooting him. 

“C’mon, really? Not even a little?” Tim protested, though he was tilting his body forward until his feet had touched the ground and he was standing upright. 

That had been the point in time where Jason had remembered the stupid little tradition. It had never occurred to him that Dick would continue the tradition, and a part of him was a little angry and a little hurt over the fact that he had told Tim about it. It had been  _ theirs  _ and now even Tim had that. 

He told himself he didn’t care. 

He told himself that they could have whatever stupid tradition they wanted. He wasn’t Robin anymore, so why should it even matter?

He went months without thinking about it again, except for those nights when he did. He told himself it didn’t bother him, except when it did. He had believed that there was at least one thing from his time as Robin--from when he had been alive--that Tim hadn’t taken over; he had been wrong, clearly. Tim had replaced him entirely and there was no trace of his life before anymore. 

He didn’t  _ care _ .

So why the hell, he had to ask himself, was he watching Batman from the shadows? It had been months since he last seen Bruce--since he had last seen any of them. He had been back in Gotham for a couple hours with the sole intent of leaving as soon as he finished his business here, so why was he watching Batman like some glorified stalker? 

He knew why.

This would be a perfect time to scare him. Bruce didn’t know he was here, he wasn’t aware of the fact that he was even in Gotham. This would be the  _ perfect  _ opportunity.  Jason was creeping closer, his footsteps silent against the concrete. Bruce was talking to someone, probably Alfred if Jason had to take an educated guess, so he was preoccupied. 

_ Good _ . 

He was moving fast now, sliding down just as he got close. He had intended to kick Bruce’s legs out from under him, but he knew that before that could happen Bruce would jump out of the way--and he did. Batman’s cape brushed against his hood and the next second Bruce was landing behind him, crouched, with three Baterangs at the ready. He didn’t need to see Bruce’s face to see the shocked expression, he could read it like an open book with the way his mouth opened in disbelief. 

“ _ Jason? _ ” 

“Oh my  _ god _ .” He was pushing himself up, standing up straight to actually look at Bruce. He had actually done it. He had caught Batman by surprise; he had  _ scared  _ Bruce, even if it had been for a second. “Oh, Dick’s not gonna believe this. I got you!”

He watched the disbelief morph into anger, and then all at once he was back to the Batman frown. Jason was laughing, he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t felt this sort of childlike thrill since--well, since before he died--and he was high off of it. Out of all the Robins that had ever worn those stupid colors Dick had chosen, he had been the one to scare Bruce first.

He always knew he would.

He saw the slightest hint of a smile on Bruce’s face, and he didn’t know why but that made it better. That childlike euphoria he was feeling was ready to burst out of him and he didn’t know if he should be afraid of feeling this  _ happy  _ or if he should just shut up and enjoy it for the little time he was going to have it. “Would have, if I hadn’t seen you standing there for the past five minutes.”

The grin that had been plastered on Jason’s face only grew, despite the sickening deja vu feeling in the pit of his stomach. “No. I got you.”

So maybe traditions weren’t a bad thing. Maybe they weren’t kicking him out of it and maybe they weren’t exclusive to him either. Maybe, just maybe, he could still enjoy some things from before.

**Author's Note:**

> My boyfriend and I were talking about this a while ago and I suddenly remembered it and decided to write this. It's my sort of welcome back to writing after almost two months of recovering from surgeries prompt!


End file.
